


Control

by Nikolai_Knight



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Nikolai_Knight
Summary: Louis' attempt to leave Lestat goes awry.After Lestat pushes him to breaking point, he lashes out the only way possible.
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Control

‘I’m leaving you, Lestat.’

The suitcase was heavy in hand. It left a small indent along his flesh, as the weight brought an ache to the shoulder that bore the brunt, and the leather bore a familiar scent, something rich and earthy from its time spent hiding in storage. Louis kept his eyes locked forward. The low candlelight cast long shadows about the lounge, where it caught at Lestat’s figure on the opposite side of the room, and the long black silhouette lay cold about the floor. 

Louis sighed, as he stepped toward the apartment door. Lestat lunged. It was a ferocious speed that left him a mere blur in the peripheral vision, and he seemed to beat his shadow to the door, so that – for an eerie second – Lestat was in front of the black mass. He pressed his long fingers to the cool wood of the door. The palm slammed on the carved patterns. Louis jumped enough that the suitcase clips and handles rattled, and his heart raced loud within his chest. A cold sweat broke over his flesh, as he kept his eyes fixed forward, and schooled his impassive expression.

It was a disconcerting silence that descended. Every beat of Louis’ heart echoed about his ears, where it blocked out all other sounds, and each hissed breath threatened to turn into a hyperventilating attack of anxiety, one that would not be controlled. Lestat hunched forward. He still bore his formal attire from the opera, with blond hair pulled back in a blue ribbon, but his flashing canine teeth were at odds with his otherwise graceful appearance.

‘You’re not going anyway,’ spat Lestat.

‘You cannot keep me here forever.’ Louis glared. ‘The way I see it, you are the one that needs me in this relationship. I was the one to nurse and tend to your father, and I was the one to make various investments, and all properties are in my name. I know why you want me to stay. It’s because you can’t possibly live without me, despite all your assertions!’

‘Oh, Louis, Louis, Louis! You always think you’re so smart, don’t you? There’s still so much you don’t know . . . I could survive without you, my melancholy friend, but could you survive without me? You don’t know the rules of our kind, the tricks for survival . . . you know nothing!’

‘It suits you to keep me reliant on you, doesn’t it?’

‘You need me, Louis. Face reality.’

Louis marched forward. He snatched at the handle, as he strove to throw open the door, but – once more – Lestat slammed his hand against the wood. Louis took in a deep breath. He turned his gaze to Lestat, where he looked at the grey-blue eyes until his vision blurred, and finally he closed his eyes and lowered his head. The music on the street blared through the windows, as the bands continued to play their tunes, and a few servants laughed and mingled in the stairwell beyond, while life continued around them. Louis opened his eyes. He breathed deep and said:

‘I can figure it out on my own.’

He took the handle again. He pulled open the door, knocking Lestat by his shoulder, and finally stepped out into the hallway beyond, where the gas lights illuminated every inch of the surrounding corridors and stairwells. Louis finally breathed. The long exhale let the adrenaline drop from his veins, while the sweat slowly dried on his flesh. A small smile broke across his pale features, and – with tears pricking at his eyes – he stepped forward. He made it only to the top step of the stairwell, when an aggressive voice billowed out loud enough to hurt his ears:

‘ _What about our daughter_?’

Louis froze. He gripped at the luggage until knuckles turned white. The air grew thin, as his mind grew light-headed and sparks of colour danced about his vision, and Louis swayed where he stood, while his breaths grew shallow and broken. He barely hard the slow and steady footsteps behind him, but he felt the cold hands that gripped his shoulders. Louis tensed. The muscles in his arms grew taught, like marble on a statue, and his mouth ran dry, as he fought back a hard lump in the back of his throat. He tasted bile bitter on his tongue.

‘Will you really abandon her, Louis?’ Lestat shook his head. ‘Our poor angel! You know how Claudia and I fight, so what would happen without you to mediate? Oh, she’s too small to live alone in a mortal world . . . she could not survive without support . . .’

‘ _Damn you to hell, Lestat_!’

A tear fell down his cheek. It left a red mark on the white flesh. A cold hand reached down and pried the luggage from his limp grip and loose fingers, and soon the weight was gone with only a lingering burning sensation against his hand where leather pressed into flesh. He hunched forward, while a firm grip took his shoulder and guided him back towards the door, and – without resistance – he followed with his head down and gaze lowered. The walk dragged in time, as his head lolled from side to side and his eyes half-closed with each step.

‘You can’t leave me without her, Louis’ said Lestat.

‘But you won’t let me leave with her . . .’

Louis said nothing, as he was gently pushed inside. The luggage was dropped by the front door, which clicked closed with a soft sound, and finally he was guided back to the main bedroom, where the two coffins lay side-by-side in their usual place. He remained silent even as Lestat slowly undressed, while the skies outside turned into a dark purple that signalled the coming of dawn, and the cold realisation dawned: it was too late. It was too late to leave.

*** * ***

“I see you’re still here,” laughed Lestat.

The way he reclined was almost beautiful. He stretched out on the _chaise longue_ , while his loose blond hair splayed about the pillow like a halo, and his shirt – laces loose, untucked – revealed a great deal of his toned and smooth chest. A silver plate rested on his lap, where fresh grapes covered the surface until only the engraved edges could be seen, and his long fingers toyed with each one, as he slowly twisted them from the stalk and threw them across the lounge.

Each one would fly through the air, where it would hit against Louis. The first struck his forehead, the second struck his shoulder, and soon a small pile grew on his left side, as he sat leaning on his right with an opened book in hand. It was impossible to slide into a more upright position, as it would cause the grapes to be squashed between thighs and armchair. He tightened his grip on his book. The grapes continued to be thrown, as more and more of the plate grew visible beneath the empty stalks, and Lestat hummed an old tune under his breath.

The adrenaline started to course through Louis, as his heartbeat picked up speed, and his knuckles grew white, while the pages crinkled under the harsh hold. The grapes picked up speed, but grew closer and closer to his arms . . . his hand . . . his book . . . soon the pages jolted with the force of the grapes on the front cover. It distorted the text. Louis flared his nostrils, as his eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed, and Lestat laughed out in a perky voice:

“I’m sorry, am I annoying you?”

A grape struck him on the forehead. Louis gritted his teeth, while each breath came out low and slow, and he carefully closed his book with a soft thud of leather on paper. He slid it onto a side-table, while another grape aimed itself at his chest. The racing heart blocked out other sound. He struggled to remain still, as an almost imperceptible tremble struck his hands and limbs, and his vision grew narrowed until only Lestat was visible. It was like looking through a tunnel. There were only the grapes, the anger, and the claustrophobia. He locked eyes with Lestat.

“Stop, Lestat,” said Louis.

“Why?” Lestat laughed. “Do you know Claudia plans to be gone for the night? It’s so rare that we get a night to ourselves . . . time to laugh, time to cry, time to bond . . . will you run away again? Is that your answer to everything? I wonder if you’ll run away over some grapes.”

“I mean it, Lestat. I only have so much patience.”

“It’d be interesting to see you snap. I’ve known you all these years, but you so rarely put your foot down over matters . . . I sometimes wonder if you even have a spine. I can count on one hand all the times you’ve stood up and demanded things your way, but each and every time -? Well, it should be obvious by now that you’re _weak_ , Louis. You should know your place.”

“You’re trying to provoke me,” spat Louis.

“You never wanted me to take that Freniere boy. You never wanted me to do a lot of things, and if it were down to you our daughter would be dead right now, as who was it that didn’t want me to give her the gift of life? I don’t see how a man like you could live alone.”

Louis slowly stood. He moved to the master bedroom, where the four-poster bed was immaculately made with a thin layer of dust, and the curtains shimmered with a breeze from the window, as the winds rattled against the single-pane of glass. Louis brushed away the dust from the topmost blanket, before he unhooked the curtains. He continued to fuss about the bed, even as loud footsteps echoed out about the lounge, and slowly they came ever closer.

Lestat leaned against the doorway. The sleeve of his loose shirt billowed out, while his free hand loosened the laces further, and soon the shirt was pulled overhead, before it was tossed lazily across the room. It landed half-on and half-off the coffin. Louis marched over to the shirt and snatched it from the polished wood, before carefully folding it and placing it on a nearby chair, while Lestat simply dropped his trousers and kicked them away with a bare foot. A low hiss escaped Louis, as he yanked away the fabric from the floor and folded it in turn. Lestat said:

“You must learn that I’m the voice of authority.”

A hand knocked the trousers from his hand. Louis took them again. Lestat knocked them again. It was a tedious and childish process, which was repeated several times, until – with sparks of colour about his vision – Louis spun around and jabbed his finger towards Lestat. It stopped just short of that pronounced nose. He stepped close, until the warmth from Lestat’s naked frame pierce through his attire and struck goose-bumps over his skin. They locked eyes, while those blue-grey pupils blew wide, and Louis bared his canine teeth with a growl.

“Lestat,” spat Louis. “You are trying my last nerve.”

“Oh? What will you do to stop me?”

The smirk brought lines to the corners of those eyes. A flush of colour struck those pale cheeks. Louis fought for breath, as he verged on hyperventilation . . . each breath burned in his throat, mingling with bile and saliva, and his lips pressed into a thin line . . . his vision continued to constrict and narrow, until he feared blindness was inevitable. Louis fought to keep his hands open, but they closed into a fist despite willing it otherwise. They broke out into pins and needles. Lestat leaned closer and bit at the air, missing the finger by a mere millimetre, as he said:

“I always knew you were weak, just like –”

Louis screamed. It was a pure and primal sound, which reverberated around the room. The spit flew from his mouth, while his eyes bulged, and his throat grew sore from the force of the cries, until finally tears spilled fast and free down his cheeks. The neighbours below pounded against the ceiling, but the sounds mingled with all the others . . . _racing heart, choked sobs . . . manic laugher_. . . he grabbed at Lestat’s upper arms with all his strength. He flung Lestat towards the bed, where he crashed through the curtains and landed upon the firm mattress with a bounce.

A low groan emitted from Lestat, while there followed a rustle of sheets. Louis marched toward the bed. He flung wide the bed-curtains, which billowed out behind him with a theatrical flair, and soon they practically encompassed him, before they fell behind him and rested against his frame. He crawled onto the bed. The mattress dipped as he moved, while Lestat – somewhat dazed – tried to drag himself upright with a curse, but Louis yanked him back by his ankle.

Lestat lay naked and prone with opened mouth; Louis knelt above him on all fours, as he looked down into those expressive eyes with a hard gaze, and finally dropped his weight on Lestat, as he sat astride him and rested his legs on either side of that perfectly sized waist. Lestat continued to open and close his mouth like a fish out of water, until suddenly the laughter returned, and Louis slammed a hand against his shoulder and forced him flat against the mattress. It knocked the wind from Lestat, who let loose a breathless chuckle, and choked out:

“Is that all you’ve got, Louis?”

Louis slowly unbuttoned his waistcoat. He struggled with the buttons, as his fingers trembled with every attempt against the soft fabric, and – as he finally made it to the final one – a pair of hands came towards his shoulders, as if to slide off the item from his form. Louis scoffed and slapped hard at both hands. Lestat yanked them back with a high-pitched yelp, before he nursed at the rapped knuckles of one with his lips. He glared back at Louis. Louis rolled his eyes, before he tossed aside his waistcoat and pulled off his shirt overhead. He reached for his belt.

The hands returned, as Lestat let loose a low hum. Louis struck again. He clawed this time with his nails, leaving small red lines against the white flesh, and they sat bubbling and perfectly parallel, with the heady and arousing scent of blood piercing through the room. Louis drew in a deep breath, before he leaned down and licked at each cut in turn. The taste and intimacy sent shivers down his spine. A low sigh broke through his lips. He licked again.

Louis slid a free hand down to his belt, while he sucked at Lestat’s index finger, and – swirling around his tongue in mimicry of oral intercourse – used the distraction to remove his belt from his waist, before bringing it back to the bruised and bleeding hands. He raised the hands to the spindle of the headboard, before quickly tying them to the wood with a deft pull of the belt. He pulled the leather tight. If Lestat truly objected, the spindle would have been snapped and belt ripped into pieces. He instead lay prone and licked at his lips.

“Well, this is interesting,” said Lestat.

“I’m telling you to _shut_ up!”

“Oh? Tell me, what will you do to make – _ah, stop!_ ”

Louis slapped at Lestat’s hip. He struck again. Lestat tossed and turned, as he pulled at the belt in a half-hearted attempt to break free and muttered curses beneath his breath. He was red in the face, while his lips pursed into a pout, and Louis – nostrils flared, eyes narrowed – half-stood on the mattress and reached between his legs for Lestat’s legs. He took them by the thighs and pulled them through, before dropping the crooks of his knees upon his shoulders.

It left Lestat exposed and vulnerable, as he finally fell silent. The long shaft of his member was half-hard and slowly swelled to an impressive girth, and the dusting of blond hair about his groin almost led a tempted hand to stroke through the curls, while testicles hung just below. Louis ran his hands down toned and muscular legs. The trousers on his waist fell to his knees without the belt to support them, and his erection burst to life as cool air brushed against the exposed flesh. It brought a shudder through him, as he licked at his lips and glared downward.

Lestat writhed again. Louis struck. He slapped hard at the right buttock, leaving a faint red mark that slowly spread on the pale skin. A loud yelp echoed out. Lestat arched his back, while his hands clung to the spindle, and his legs tightened about Louis’ shoulders, while his member twitched with a new spark of life. Louis spanked him again. He struck over and over until Lestat was a mewling mess with both cheeks fully red and hot to the touch.

“D-Damn it, Louis! You must – _ugh_!”

He spanked even harder, as tears pricked at Lestat’s eyes. The erection stood at full mast, with the familiar curve almost tempting Louis to take it in hand, and the tip wept with a stream of pre-come, which left its mark upon his abdomen. Louis struck again. A tear fell from Lestat, but his back arched to breaking point and his fingers nearly drew blood, as they clawed at his hands in search of something to hold. The cock twitched with the thick vein on the underside twitching in time to his heartbeat, while loud pants echoed about and broke through the silence. 

“Don’t – Don’t you disrespect me, Louis!”

“It’s time for you to _shut up_ , Lestat.”

Louis struggled to shuck off his trousers. They were followed by his socks and garters, but the final sock was snatched with a violent hold and quick movements. He thrust it toward Lestat’s face, before forcing it inside his mouth until he was effectively gagged, and slapped roughly at those bruised buttocks. Lestat coughed and spluttered and choked. The spanking distracted him enough to catch his breath, as he moaned out from behind the makeshift gag.

The prone and naked figure before him was perfect. It brought pure arousal coursing through every vein in Louis’ muscles, and his member throbbed in time to his heart, as he braced his weight on both hands on either side of Lestat’s chest. Louis leaned slowly down, where he licked at a hardening nipple. Lestat bucked. A second long lick brought it to full hardness, before the soft pair of lips worked around the nub and suckled, and his tongue flicked quickly across the nipple while he sucked and moaned and spanked again at the buttocks.

Lestat yelped, while writhing against his restraints. It was a delicious sound, one that provoked Louis to nip with his teeth with just enough pressure . . . _hard enough to bring pain, soft enough to fend away bruises . . ._ Lestat tossed and turned beneath him, mewling with such high-pitched and keening sounds that Louis’ erection grew almost painful. He used his free hand to toy and tease with the other nipple, while he sucked and nibbled and licked enough for Lestat’s breaths to come out in such shallow pants that he nearly removed the gag. Lestat thrust against him.

The bucking motion brought his buttocks against erection. A low sigh escaped Louis, as his long length slid perfectly between both cheeks, and they gripped him with just enough pressure and warmth to bring drops of pre-come to his slit. The cleft was moist from where Lestat self-lubricated, with his twitching hole occasionally catching at the head of the shaft. Louis bit into his lip. He fought back the urge to thrust inside, as he slapped at Lestat once again. 

“You think yourself a figure of authority, don’t you?”

Lestat moaned and arched his back.

“You’re not worthy of my respect.” Louis snarled. “I’ve spent so long under your thumb . . . listening to you, obeying you . . . even in bed we are far from equals! Just this once, _you_ will know what it’s like to be weak . . . vulnerable . . . _owned_. You’re at my mercy, Lestat.”

Lestat wept with arousal. He gripped at the spindle until all colour drained from his hands, and veins along his wrists and forearms bulged. The muscles of his abdomen glistened from pre-come, which pooled and smeared over his skin, and his erection visibly jerked on the verge of orgasm, made more prominent when Louis spanked him once more. He licked at his lips, while he ran his hands over those buttocks and stroked at the bruised flesh. He slapped again . . . _once, twice, thrice_. . . each time the punctuated cries grew more and more high-pitched.

Lestat screamed. Lestat came.

The muscular thighs clamped down around Louis’ neck, while his feet dug painfully against shoulder-blades, and his back arched to breaking point, as it lifted completely from the sweat-stained sheets and accentuated the curve to his thrown-back neck. The scream was muffled by the sock stuffed within his mouth. The thick ropes of come shot out from his cock . . . five or six perfect lines of white against his abdomen, painting him to perfection.

Louis pulled out the sock. It came with a line of saliva, as Lestat drooled a little on exit. He kept his mouth open and panted desperately, as his whole body fell slack against the sheets, and blown pupils struggled to focus with the afterglow and darkness. Louis bent low and licked at some of the come . . . _sweeter than the bitter pre-come, a taste he could abide . . ._ the oversensitive skin brought a hiss from those plump and swollen lips. Lestat watched Louis, as Louis lapped up the come from his stomach and cleaned him with his tongue.

“Some punishment,” gasped Lestat.

Louis chuckled. He licked at his lips, before kneeling upright. Lestat remained tied to the spindle, as he lay dishevelled and sweat-soaked on the wrinkled sheets, and the heady scent of sex filled the air around them, while Louis slid a hand down to his erect member. He lined the head against the winking hole. He would push slowly forward, with his hand guiding the way, until the head pushed inside and was gripped by the tight inner walls, and then he would pull out until nothing was left inside. He repeated this several times, enough for Lestat to break his refractory period, as his erection slowly returned, and his mumbled French fell back to vulgar curses. Louis said:

“It’s time I fucked you, Lestat.”

“ _Finally_. It’s about time!”

“You might be in charge usually, but not now . . . _not this time_.” Louis slapped his buttock. “It’s about time someone disrespected you . . . _desecrated_ you . . . I’m going to fuck you and use you, until your orgasms run dry and your eyes fall closed. I’m going to make you pay for all your threats, your bribes, your manipulations . . . for once; _I’m_ the one in charge.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Louis. I’ll make you regret this!”

Louis smiled. He thrust inside. A broke and primal scream escaped Lestat, as his erection bobbed back to life, and his mouth let loose a constant stream of curses, compliments, and desperate demands for _more_ thrusts . . . _harder_ thrusts . . . _‘make me feel it, Louis!’_. . . the verbal barrage was deeply desired. The dirty talk and sounds of arousal nearly broke Louis; any movement would have him at the point of orgasm, and already the inner walls fluttered around him, as if trying to milk the hot come from him when he was already so close to the edge.

The ridged walls were so hot, as if designed for this very purpose. Louis gasped and panted for breath, while he dropped those raised legs around his waist, and – despite trying to keep from coming – Lestat dug his heels beneath Louis’ buttocks and pulled him close: _‘hurry, Louis, I need you’_. Louis braced his weight on one hand, as he leaned over Lestat; his hair fell down to curtain them in a world of their own. They shared every breath . . . lips brushing lightly . . .

Louis pulled mostly out, before he slammed back inside. The sheer force had the mattress squeaking beneath his weight and thrusts; every thrust was hard and fast, as the headboard banged against the wall in a familiar rhythm, and the sound of balls upon bruised buttocks echoed out about the bedroom. The pleasure built fast within his cock, as sparks of adrenaline and pleasure shot like electricity through every nerve. He struck with all his force.

It was too much to last too long. Lestat continued to pour forth gasps and groans, as he writhed against his restraints, and the mere sight of him was deeply erotic. Louis ran a hand over that hot and panting chest, where his fingers toyed with the nipples. They gently twirled and twisted, before alternating with fast flicking motions, and the erection pressed between them wet afresh, as a stream of incoherent sounds escaped Lestat: _‘uh, ah, uh, uh, oh’_. Louis struggled to maintain his pace, as his movements grew erratic and frantic. He choked out:

“ _Fuck you, Lestat . . ._ ”

Louis thrust in one last time, as the orgasm struck. It stole his breath. The sparks of colour about his vision burst to life, as his eyes rolled back, and nothing else existed but that one moment of pure unadulterated bliss . . . it was all consuming. The fast beat of his heart reached its climax, as he feared it may stop altogether. He fought for breath. Every muscle in his body seized, as he remained locked balls deep inside Lestat, and pumped thick ropes of come deep inside Lestat, marking him from the inside. Every nerve came alive. It was nirvana. _Ecstasy_.

He found enough strength to pull down his hand. He took Lestat’s member and worked it with expertise, while the rush of adrenaline and endorphins slowly came down, and – as he staved off the inevitable collapse – Lestat came once again. The inner walls clamped down around Louis, sending shivers of pain and pleasure in equal measure around his over-stimulated member. He screamed loud enough to bring a sharp hiss from Louis, who finally broke . . .

Louis collapsed.

It knocked the wind from Lestat, who finally fell limp and loose in turn. They lay entwined and entangled, with Louis still deep inside him, as they panted and shared in the glorious afterglow, in which neither could do anything but smile and hum. Louis stroked lightly at Lestat’s flushed chest, while he pressed lazy kisses along his neck. The racing heartbeat slowed. It was impossible for Lestat to roll away and leave him, not while he was tied, and so Louis relished in the small intimacy of simply being in each other’s arm, while he fought back tears.

“Louis,” whispered Lestat. “If you leave me, you’ll never get this kind of passion again. I make you feel _alive_ . . . admit it! Why would you want some boring domesticity? I bring you something you could never get from anyone else! You’re mine, Louis. Just see that!”

Louis slowly extricated himself from his sweat-soaked lover. The bedsprings squeaked under his movements, while Lestat remained bruised and fatigued on the bed, still soaked in his come . . . it was almost an erotic sight, but Louis tore himself away. He pulled back the bed-curtains and stepped out into the bedroom, as he found the washbasin and quickly ran a wet cloth over his flesh, and cleaned off every nook and cranny. Lestat babbled away endlessly on the bed, until he heard the distinct sounds of clothes being pulled onto compliant limbs.

He dressed quickly, before darting back to the bed. Lestat screamed and swore at him, as he bent down to pull out the suitcase from under the bed-frame, and opened the curtains just enough to see Lestat fighting against the belt that kept him tied to the spindle. Louis lifted the suitcase to give him a clear view . . . _‘Louis? Louis! You wouldn’t dare! Louis! You bastard!’_. . . Louis walked with purpose towards the bedroom doors. He stopped and looked back.

A smile broke across his face, as he said in a cold voice:

“Goodbye, Lestat . . .”


End file.
